


expose; exposure

by pierrot



Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Alternate Universe - Photographer, Emetophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-08-07 16:54:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7722454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pierrot/pseuds/pierrot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jun walks into the studio, Nino has already seen enough to know that this is someone on the verge of a breakthrough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	expose; exposure

**Author's Note:**

> Emetophobia warning = there's a scene in this fic that depicts vomiting.

The first time Nino meets Jun, they’re both nineteen and total nobodies.  
  
Nino leaves school with no real ambitions beyond a desire to get out and never look back. A series of unbearably dull part-time jobs ends at a camera shop where he’s tasked with taking passport photos; it’s hardly better than the others, but it leaves him with a newfound fascination for the way people transform the moment he puts them in front of the camera lens.  
  
The scant two months of experience are apparently enough to leverage into a job as a photographer’s assistant, setting up equipment and running errands for a disgruntled veteran of thirty years in the business spent shooting unimaginative pictorials for fashion magazines. He mostly learns a lot about how heavy lighting fixtures are to move and how scratchy his throat can become by the end of the day just by being surrounded by people constantly chain smoking.  
  
It doesn’t take long for him to pick up the habit.  
  
When Jun walks into the studio, the model for their photoshoot that day, Nino has already seen enough to know that this is someone on the verge of a breakthrough. He has the sort of face that deserves to be on campaign billboards: thick, strong eyebrows that arch starkly over bright eyes and long lashes, a wide, full mouth that drops in a natural pout, high cheekbones framed by loose waves of overgrown hair. It’s a face that demands attention.  
  
Part of Nino’s job means he’s charge of getting Jun through the shoot that day. He may have the right look, but Jun still has too little experience to know how to position his body right yet, all stiff muscles and awkward limbs that scream his uncertainty before they even begin.  
  
Nino doesn’t have the right look, not anywhere close with his small figure and weak shoulders, but he understands how to pose for a camera. Picks it up like it’s nothing after a few sessions spent watching his boss snap instructions at untrained models; he seems to know instinctively where to place himself in front of the lens, how to soften his face into just the right expression.  
  
His boss once used him for test shots on a day when their model failed to show and clicked his teeth in frustration when he saw the results on the viewfinder. “It’s a shame,” he said then. “You have great eyes.”  
  
Nino doesn’t much care about that one way or the other, but it gets frustrating to watch Jun be unable to have that same ease in front of the camera, struggling with directions Nino thinks are simple enough to understand. Even with Nino helping, going as far to physically move him into place (Nino always prefers the direct approach but Jun just stiffens up further with his touch) it doesn’t seem to matter as the camera clicks shot after disappointing shot, leaving his boss sighing with impatience. He ends up calling for a break earlier than planned, exiting the studio to buy more cigarettes after Nino secretly palms the rest out of his packet.  
  
It’s quiet in the studio with just the two of them there.  
  
Jun sits slumped in a chair across the room, staring at the wall with a dark expression on his face. He looks better this way, Nino thinks, with his legs stretched out in front him, frayed edges of his jeans skimming bare feet, and the angled glare of a nearby light illuminating the sharp lines of his cheekbones, the soft curves of his mouth.  
  
Nino walks over to stand in front of him, pulling two cigarettes from his pocket and offering one to Jun. He picks up one of the discarded lighters from the table and tosses it over, watching as Jun catches it with long, graceful fingers. Such a bitter contrast to his own small hands.  
  
“This isn’t going so well.” Even Jun’s voice calls attention, deep and full with a slightly grating nasal quality. “My agency is going to drop me if I fuck this up.”  
  
His face drops into a forlorn pout. Misery is not a colour that suits him well.  
  
Nino considers Jun for a few seconds, taking a long look down his body, fixing on the pale sliver of a bony wrist, and he taps his cigarette against the ashtray on the table with measured movements.  
  
“You’re trying too hard.” A wave of his hand has Jun looking confused. “Stand up for a sec.”  
  
He does, slowly, and Nino reaches over to pluck the cigarette from his lips, stubbing it in the ashtray with his own before moving back to grab his hips.  
  
Jun stiffens at the touch. “No, not good,” murmurs Nino. “You need to relax. Stop thinking.”  
  
A sharp tug pulls Jun forward and throws him off balance, forcing him to reach an arm out to grasp Nino’s shoulder. He steadies himself and looks back up with dark eyes. Too close.  
  
“Kinda hard.” His voice comes like thick gravel through softly parted lips.  
  
With hardly any space between them, Nino can see the heavy makeup caked over Jun’s skin; a near-perfect mask hiding all imperfections. Faint marks of dark moles dotted around his mouth still make their presence known, and Nino wets the tip of his finger with his tongue so he can reach out to rub clear the layer obscuring them away.  
  
He’s stopped short by a firm hold on his wrist. “What are you doing?” Those strong brows knit together and Nino wonders how annoyed Jun would have to get to make them meet. “You’re going to ruin it.”  
  
“I’m fixing it.” He flicks his wrist sharply to dislodge Jun’s grasp and tosses the hair out of his eyes. “Hold still.”  
  
Jun does just that, barely even breathing, though his tense frown remains in place. Nino can still feel the little puffs of warm air that escape his mouth, tingling the pads of Nino’s fingers when they hover close. He’s careful as he dabs at Jun’s skin, not quite able to avoid brushing his fingertips against the edges of soft lips  
  
“You do your makeup yourself?”  
  
“Sister.”  
  
“Hmm.”  
  
The trick with trying to fix Jun’s makeup is not leaving behind any odd discolouration; no patchy coverage or red marks. Nino keeps his touches featherlight, only making the subtlest refinements to let Jun’s moles show a little clearer.  
  
“Better,” he says when he pulls back to examine his handiwork. Jun still looks uncertain, and Nino holds himself back from poking the furrowed lines of his brow. “Look, what you’ve got to remember, Jun, is that you’re still new, and casting directors are a bored and cynical lot. You want to show off anything that will make you stand out from all those other pretty faces. The magazines will photoshop away anything they don’t like, but that’s their job, not yours.”  
  
Jun’s lips stay pursed but his eyes soften. Nino shifts closer and returns a hand to one of Jun’s hips. He has to tilt his head back to look at Jun directly.  
  
“Your job is to sell sex. That’s really just what everyone’s looking for at the end of the day—none of this bullshit about artistry or concepts. It’s really that simple.”  
  
Jun blinks, slow to respond, and Nino is curious about whether he’s feeling more annoyed or apprehensive. Or possibly something else entirely.  
  
Footsteps carry through the outside hallway before Nino can find out for sure. He slides away from Jun just as his boss starts to open the door, skimming his hand across Jun’s hipbone for a fraction longer than necessary.  
  
The shoot runs smoother after that. It takes a couple of false starts before Jun settles, seeming to take on what Nino said by relaxing his face and pushing back some of that tension that hindered him earlier.  
  
He keeps locked in an intense stare with Nino almost the entire time, eyes dark and full of intent.  
  
They end up in the storage room after his boss leaves for the day, exchanging fumbling kisses with little finesse and plenty of desperation, almost tripping over boxes in the darkened space as Jun tries to push Nino up against the wall.  
  
Jun uses too much tongue and his hands are uncomfortably rough against Nino’s skin, but it’s the first time in a too long that Nino has felt the touch of someone he finds attractive, so he clings to Jun and lets himself feel the warmth of his body seep through as they press closer together.  
  
It’s more than worth it for the smile Jun shoots him, almost shy, when they part ways at the end of it all.  
  
  
\----  
  
  
There are more photoshoots after that. It’s unsurprising that Jun and Nino work together again—the fashion industry isn’t that big, not really, and although new faces come and go all the time, Jun is apparently determined to stick it out.  
  
He changes a little each time. A new hairstyle, increasingly flashy accessories, a bit more confidence that bubbles through with every photoshoot he does. Enough to be mistaken for cockiness, but Jun is always so intensely serious when it comes time to work, never wanting to leave a job unsatisfied when there is more that can possibly be done.  
  
Some things stay the same. His insistence on greeting everyone properly, even when Nino smirks at the formalities and calls him by silly nicknames. The way he’s always quieter in the mornings, which Nino quickly learns is to hide his natural grouchiness. And always, after everyone else disappears for the day, finding his way into a secluded spot with Nino, not needing to say anything before moving forward to fit their mouths together; an odd routine that somehow becomes a familiar comfort.  
  
“We should go somewhere else next time,” Jun says in between kisses the third—fourth?—time they ended up in the same storage room, still stinking of the hairspray and powder the stylist had applied liberally during that day’s shoot.  
  
Nino doesn’t particularly feel like talking when he’d been enjoying the feeling of Jun’s tongue licking slowly into his mouth, sending small jolts of heat directly into the pit of his stomach. He ignores Jun and moves back to capture his lips, sighing slightly at the warm softness.  
  
Jun allows it for a few more seconds before breaking away again with a firm hand pressed against Nino’s chest to keep him at bay.  
  
Sometimes Jun is annoyingly persistent.  
  
“You don’t like the storage room?” Nino keeps his eyes turned down when he speaks, dancing his fingers over the hem of Jun’s shirt. “We could try the bathroom but it’s kind of small. Smells like lemon if you’re into that.”  
  
“That’s not what I meant.”  
  
Nino shrugs, still not meeting Jun’s eyes. “I like things this way.”  
  
It isn’t the first time Jun has hinted at them moving whatever it was they were doing beyond rushed makeout sessions in the studio after hours, but Nino always evades him. Not hard to do when all it ever takes is the slightest roll of his hips against Jun, fingers moving to place small touches strategically across his skin, and Jun’s eagerness always ends up getting the better of him.  
  
It works this time too. Nino holds his position while Jun stares at him, just letting the heat of his body press through their clothes, and then shifts slightly on his feet as he exhales, lets his loose shirt drape a little further down his chest. It’s a subtle move, meant to push Jun past the fragile hold on his restraint without making his manipulation obvious.  
  
He can feel Jun’s eyes waver, body moving a fraction closer, and Nino knows he’s succeeded.  
  
Before they leave their separate ways, Jun slips a folded piece of paper into Nino’s jacket pocket. He’s surprised that Jun is so prepared; maybe he knows Nino a little too well.  
  
“Call me sometime.”  
  
He presses his fingers against Nino’s side, briefly, and then turns, leaving Nino watching the lines of his shoulders hunching together as he disappears into the cold night air.  
  
  
\----  
  
  
Nino had been right to predict that it wouldn’t take too long for Jun to move on to bigger things. Some casting agent had obviously seen his portfolio and decided he was the perfect fit for a designer brand’s new campaign, the right look to sell overpriced jeans and cotton t-shirts to people with more money than sense.  
  
He doesn’t hear the news from Jun himself, hasn’t even seen him in almost two months, but he sees the poster freshly plastered in front of a store one day when he’s making his way through the busy shopping district on his way to work.  
  
There are too many people moving impatiently around him and he receives more than one dirty look when he suddenly stops in front of the store. Nino doesn’t care; he’s looking at Jun.  
  
Or, at least, some perfectly-crafted ideal with Jun’s face. His moles are gone, erased just as Nino had promised. No sign of any imperfections on his skin, hair swept just so over to one side of his face, eyebrows manicured into two sharp lines. Jun’s eyes stare directly ahead, as commanding as always, and his arms are wrapped around a female model.  
  
She’s pretty: long, wispy hair and elfin-like features. Nino thinks he’s probably seen her in magazines before. There’s nothing at all risqué about their pose, just a standard shot of a very beautiful couple in complementary outfits, but Nino knows what the possessive clutch of Jun’s hands and the dark look in his eyes is supposed to convey.  
  
It’s almost comical to compare this image to the Jun that Nino remembers, and he has to keep himself from laughing lest he really give people something to stare at.  
  
_You’ve learned well._  
  
After he walks away, Nino pulls his phone out from his pocket. Scrolls down his contact list until he finds a number he’s never used and only hesitates for a second before firing off a quick message. One sentence, unsigned.  
  
He buries his phone back deep in his pocket and goes to work.  
  
  
\----  
  
  
Five hours later, a text he doesn’t respond to:  
  
_Nino?_  
  
  
\----  
  
  
It might have ended like that, just a footnote in those blurry transitional years between leaving home and reaching true adulthood, but even the largest cities are always too small. Despite the months passing with no contact, Nino holds onto the belief in the back of mind that they will cross paths again, on a shoot of some kind, or through the mutual acquaintances that inevitably form when two people of similar age live in the same city.  
  
What he never expects is to run into Jun in a cheap restaurant downtown that he stops by for lunch, sitting by the window eating a burger and fries.  
  
Even facing away from him, Jun’s profile is unmistakeable, and the sight of him there makes Nino stop in his tracks. There’s a moment of indecision before he walks over to take the empty seat next to Jun, reaching over to steal a fry before Jun can realise he is there.  
  
Jun starts, and looks over with a fierce glare that melts into an expression of surprise when he catches Nino’s eyes.  
  
“Long time no see.”  
  
“Nino.”  
  
His name sounds oddly foreign on Jun’s tongue.  
  
“I have to say, I wasn’t expecting to see you in a place like this. Didn’t think that ‘superstar model Matsumoto Jun’ would be the type to eat such unhealthy food.”  
  
Jun frowns and turns back to his meal, shoulders squared. “Leave me alone, Nino.”  
  
The words might not have been enough to make Nino pull away but the tone is. He’s just about to get up to leave when Jun sighs and looks over at him.  
  
“Wait, no—I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry, I’m just tired and it’s making me snappy.”  
  
He can see that. Jun’s face is still as intense as ever but with a new weariness there: dark circles shadow eyes that somewhat lack their usual spark and his hair is pushed back untidily under a beanie instead of being perfectly styled.  
  
“Here.” Jun pushes his tray closer to Nino.  
  
Nino hadn’t actually been that interested in the food in the first place, but he takes another fry, folding it in half before dunking it into the small container of sauce. Jun stares down at the table.  
  
“Been busy lately, I take it?”  
  
“Yeah.” There’s a lot that can be interpreted from just that single word. Jun pulls at his bottom lip with his teeth and then runs his tongue over the agitated spot. “My agency has been booking me a lot of shoots lately. And—”  
  
He hesitates, and looks over at Nino with slight apprehension in his eyes. It’s enough to make Nino more than a little curious, but he knows how to stay patient.  
  
Jun’s shoulders slump. “I’m trying to get into acting.”  
  
His voice is casual but he hardens his expression, daring Nino to say something. Nino raises a single eyebrow, keeping his face otherwise impassive, but he doesn’t speak. Instead, he reaches for another fry and eats it slowly, watching Jun.  
  
“You’ll be good at it.”  
  
Jun’s face twitches, eyebrows drawing together, as if uncertain about whether he should believe that Nino means what he says.  
  
He does mean it. Not so much about Jun’s potential talent at acting; he can’t know that, and frankly, he doesn’t care. But he believes that Jun will be good at being an actor. There’s too much charisma bursting from within Jun to remain hidden for too long.  
  
“I’m serious,” he says, shooting Jun a small smile as he slides off his seat. “You’ll be a star, I can guarantee.”  
  
It’s a rare experience to see Jun looking so surprised, and he carries the image with him as he walks away.  
  
  
\----  
  
  
_Hey. I really hope this is your number. Can we meet?_  
  
  
\----  
  
  
They have sex for the first time in Jun’s tiny apartment after a strange day spent aimlessly wandering the city together. Nino isn’t sure why Jun called him out—he never gave a reason and didn’t seem to have much idea of what he even wanted to do when they met—but perhaps this was the point all along. If Nino allows himself to be truly honest, he thinks he probably knew this was the inevitable conclusion from the start. Barely any words were needed when the sky turned dim and Jun suggested moving somewhere more comfortable for a drink.  
  
Looking at Jun now, wrapped in sleep, offers Nino a chance to consider a new side of him. Gone is the smouldering gaze that stares at Nino from glossy magazine pages, replaced with entirely soft features that are distorted rather unattractively in the way they press against his pillow. There’s no makeup or editing software to smooth away his skin’s imperfections, and Nino thinks he could count every tiny mark that must take so much effort to cover.  
  
His face is no less arresting like this. Nino has the sudden urge to capture it with his camera, keep a copy so he won’t forget.  
  
It’s a strange sentiment that he buries away.  
  
Jun sleeps on his stomach, sprawled out with his arms on either side of his head and his back mostly uncovered by the sheets. His shoulders are broader than Nino remembers. The curves of his muscles create interesting lines that he wants to trace with his fingers, finding their way into every small groove.  
  
Jun wakes up when he does.  
  
“What are you doing?”  
  
The words are almost indecipherable with the way they are muttered into his pillow. Jun only manages to open his eyes a fraction, thick lashes flickering as he tries to focus on Nino’s face.  
  
“You’ve been working out.”  
  
Jun grunts and sinks back into the mattress. “Are you looking for tips?”  
  
“No.” Nino’s fingers continue their journey over the bulges of Jun’s biceps. He twitches slightly under the touch. “I follow a very special regimen to maintain my one pack. It takes a lot of work, I’ll have you know.”  
  
That earns him a snort, and Jun shifts onto his side so that he’s facing Nino properly. An arm disappears under the covers and cold fingers pinch the soft flesh of Nino’s stomach.  
  
“Very nice,” he says with an impish smile.  
  
It’s quickly replaced by a loud yawn, mouth stretching wide enough for Nino to see all of his teeth. He’s still not used to how perfectly straight they are now—gone is the jumbled, overlapping mess that always made Jun look like a naive kid when he smiled.  
  
He supposes that naivety is long gone by now.  
  
“It’s too early for this much talking,” Jun says next, nose wrinkling with a certain petulance. There’s the moodiness Nino remembers from those early morning photoshoots. “Go back to sleep. I can’t make you breakfast in bed if you get up before me.”  
  
With that, he tugs Nino’s arm until he collapses onto the bed beside him, and returns to his original position on his stomach. Nino watches him for a moment, eyes already closed and breaths heavy, before he rolls onto his back to stare at the ceiling.  
  
“I didn’t know you treated your houseguests to breakfast in bed,” he muses into the air.  
  
“Not all of them,” is the muffled response. There’s a shifting sound, and Nino turns his head back to see Jun’s eyes are open once more, looking at Nino with a strange spark. “Why? Would you have agreed to meet me earlier if you’d known?”  
  
The question is meant to be playful, but Jun is clearly too tired to put the right amount of flippancy behind the words. He still hasn’t quite learned how to disguise the vulnerability in his eyes, and it’s hard for Nino to ignore. Torn for a moment, he shifts closer to Jun, leaning to hover right in front of his face.  
  
Jun’s eyes widen with interest, lips parting softly.  
  
“ _Sleep_ ,” Nino says, and rolls away.  
  
Jun buries his face in the crook of Nino’s neck and wraps an arm around his waist.  
  
  
\--  
  
Only a day passes, and Nino receives a text message from Jun, full of too many emojis and a suggestion that they should meet again. He doesn’t plan to reply.  
  
Two weeks pass, and he’s exchanged enough messages with Jun that he decides he probably needs to save Jun’s number in his phone’s contact list. Otherwise, he’s going to start knowing it by heart, and that’s an altogether discomfiting thought. (Nino tries not to think about how he’s basically memorised the number already.)  
  
Three months pass, and Jun presses a key into his palm as he’s about to leave Jun’s apartment one morning. He tells Nino it will be more convenient, and either his acting classes have been paying off, or it’s really as casual a gesture as Jun makes it out to be. Nino curls his fingers around the key, cold and heavy.  
  
It takes him another month to repay the gesture.  
  
  
\--  
  
  
It’s not a relationship. Not a proper, romantic one anyway, with neat labels like ‘boyfriend’ or ‘partner’ or anything else that will make something twist uncomfortably in the pit of Nino’s stomach. They just happen to meet up occasionally. Or, well, possibly more than occasionally as the months pass. Casual dates turn into longer stays at each other’s apartments, and possessions start travelling from one place to the other until Nino gets used to seeing a second toothbrush by the bathroom sink when he gets up in the morning.  
  
It’s still not a relationship.  
  
“It sounds like a relationship to me,” Sho says over drinks, after Nino tries to explain to him for the fifth time why he doesn’t just move in with Jun permanently.  
  
He’s not exactly sure how he even became friends with Sho in the first place. There was a night out during Nino’s early days of working, before he learned how much alcohol he could handle, that somehow ended with him in the midst of a drunken debate with a group of university students about the merits of soccer versus baseball. Sho was one of those university students, and both of them ended up stumbling home in the same direction at the end of the night.  
  
True friendships seem to be forged when two people cry drunkenly together over nothing and then vomit on each other’s shoes.  
  
Nino shrugs and takes a sip of his drink. “I told you, it’s not like that. I think Jun’s getting kind of busy with his acting stuff anyway. Probably won’t have time to see each other.”  
  
Jun didn’t take long after he told Nino he wanted to act to land his first small role in a high school drama. His modelling success gave him enough of a boost over other young hopefuls to land a contract with a decent agency, and he works tirelessly to attend castings and acting lessons, hopeful that he will soon enough get his big break.  
  
Nino is sure it will happen.  
  
He’s less sure about his own career. After deciding to part ways with his old boss, he joined up with a casual photographer acquaintance to open their own small studio. It’s definitely interesting; Ohno Satoshi is brilliant but eccentric, choosing to take jobs in an uncommonly wide range of areas, and preferring to work on less commercial projects when Nino doesn’t nag him about their need to actually earn money.  
  
Making sure their business stays profitable keeps him just as busy as Jun most days.  
  
“I can’t believe you don’t even watch Jun’s dramas.”  
  
Nino rolls his eyes and looks at Sho pointedly. “I can’t believe you do. What are you, a bored housewife?”  
  
“My best friend’s boyfriend stars in them. Of course I’m going to watch.”  
  
“He’s not my boyfriend.” Nino glances down at the ice cubes melting in his otherwise empty glass, and considers ordering another drink. He’s definitely going to make Sho pay for both of them tonight. “And I really don’t think you can say he _stars_ in any of his dramas.”  
  
“He’s getting bigger.” Sho’s being annoyingly insistent, and Nino doesn’t know what exactly he’s trying to prove. “Don’t you find people recognising him more when you’re out together?”  
  
“We don’t really go out together much.”  
  
Confusion passes through Sho’s eyes and he frowns. “You don’t? Then what do you do? Don’t try to act like you don’t see each other much because you always seem to be with him when I call you.”  
  
Nino smirks, eyes sparkling at the opportunity Sho just provided him. “Are you really asking me to give you details about what we do together, alone, in our apartments? I didn’t realise you were so interested, Sho.”  
  
The entire maddening conversation is made worth it by the way Sho instantly becomes flustered, face twitching through an amusing array of expressions before he clamps his mouth shut and looks away with cheeks flushed. Satisfied, Nino leaves him be, and signals the bartender for another drink.  
  
What Sho said still pricks at him, however. For all that Jun and Nino have both been busier, it’s true that they still spend more of their free time together than Nino prefers to admit. Sometimes it’s just in the form of Jun slipping into Nino’s bed after he’s already gone to sleep, the only contact they get during those weeks where Jun’s schedules run late. Other nights, Nino stays up a little later than he normally might, finishing off some work or playing games, with the knowledge that Jun is likely to call.  
  
One time when he does, Nino wakes up the next morning on his living room floor with a game controller digging into his thigh and no missed calls from Jun. He avoids Jun for a week after that until Jun shows up at the studio, unexpectedly, with dark circles under his eyes and two cups of coffee in his hands.  
  
He doesn’t think Sho needs to know any of those things.  
  
“All I’m saying,” says Sho, after he’s regained his composure, “is that this whole Jun-thing seems pretty permanent to me.”  
  
Nino slides his fingers around the rim of his glass and tips it to one side so the ice cubes at the bottom clink together. He’s not looking at Sho, but he makes a small hum from the back of his throat in response.  
  
“We’ll see.”  
  
  
\--  
  
  
“Don’t you ever take any photos just for fun?”  
  
Nino’s busy frowning at his laptop, sorting through emails from clients, and it takes him a few seconds to register the question. He looks over his shoulder at Jun, sitting on the couch behind him fiddling with the camera Nino brought over with him.  
  
It’s one of those rare days where both of them are free, but Nino still has work to finish. He’s spent the past two hours sitting on Jun’s living room floor with his laptop perched on his legs while Jun puttered around the apartment, rambling about the latest problems with his agency in between bursts of housework.  
  
Clearly his boredom has reached breaking point.  
  
“If you break that, you’re buying me a better one,” he says, and Jun shoots him an unimpressed glance before returning to his examination of the camera. “And no, I don’t.”  
  
“I thought you liked it?”  
  
“I do.” Nino returns his gaze to his laptop screen and starts typing a quick email to Ohno. “But work is work.”  
  
“I just think it’s kinda funny that you’re a photographer and I’m a model, but you’ve never taken a single picture of me.”  
  
“You want me to photograph you? I charge a fee for that.”  
  
“So do I.”  
  
There’s silence then, and Nino assumes that’s the end of Jun’s musings. He’s thought about it before; how he would stage a shoot with Jun as the model, the perfect lighting and angles he’d use to capture his expressions and the defined lines of his frame. It’s hard not to when he has to look at Jun frequently and be struck by that frustratingly fascinating face.  
  
Jun slides off the couch and crouches next to Nino. He looks up, and only has time to widen his eyes in surprise before Jun snaps a photo of him.  
  
“What are you doing?”  
  
“If you won’t take photos of me, then I want to take them of you.” Jun is grinning, and that’s never a good sign for Nino’s productivity. “Come on, you can teach me all the professional secrets.”  
  
“My first tip is to choose a better subject.” Nino closes his laptop and puts it aside, knowing that simple words won’t be enough to make Jun stop. “My second is that you need a better angle. Here—” he grabs at the camera and quickly checks the picture Jun took of him, far too close and unflattering. “See? No good.”  
  
Jun pulls the camera back and pouts. “It’s cute.” Nino snorts. Jun’s face grows more serious then, carefully considering. “I think you make a great subject.” He moves his legs over to straddle Nino, holding the camera to one side as he takes a moment to study him. “You have a very interesting face. Kind of annoying how pretty you are when you don’t even care.”  
  
Nino’s never been called pretty so bluntly before, and from anyone else he’d just be dismissive, but something warm flushes through his chest. “I’m sure you see plenty of prettier people everyday.”  
  
“No.” Jun snaps another picture and smiles at the result. “You’re definitely better.”  
  
The strong lean of Jun’s torso hovering over him and the weight of his body pressing on his legs is starting to make Nino think of other things. Things he would much rather be doing if he’s going to be kept distracted from his work anyway. “Are you done,” he asks, pointedly leaving Jun’s comments unaddressed.  
  
“Not yet; one more.” Jun shifts his position, taking more care this time as he lines up his shot. “You have to pose for me. Make it sexy.”  
  
Nino tilts his head lazily to one side and lifts his chin up slightly, relaxing his mouth into a soft pout. It’s easy for him to convey exactly what he wants to Jun with his gaze; promises of warm lips and whimpered sighs, fingers searching with the need to touch skin.  
  
Jun’s eyes are dark when he pulls the camera away, and Nino wonders if he’s about to witness a very expensive piece of equipment go crashing to the floor. He’s not really as concerned as he should be.  
  
It’s torturous to feel Jun pressing closer as he shifts his body to place the camera safely out of the way on the couch behind them, but Nino holds still. He likes teasing Jun, but he also likes waiting for him to make the first move; the thrill of anticipation that builds as they stare at each other, lips curling into mirrored, playful smiles.  
  
Although he’s become more patient since they first met, Jun always breaks first.  
  
“Very pretty,” he whispers against Nino’s lips, and Nino laughs as they melt into each other, crashing to the floor.  
  
  
\--  
  
  
What Nino told Sho eventually comes to pass: Jun is cast in an independent film, and location shooting keeps him out of the city for weeks. Even before that, they'd already started seeing less of each other. Jun always seems to be attending industry parties and social events that Nino has no interest in, and he can feel Jun’s frustration every time he declines an invite.  
  
It’s a definite cooling-off period.  
  
He doesn’t know why he bothers to come over to Jun’s apartment when he asks. Jun is back in the city now, and he called Nino as soon as he arrived with promises of dinner after a meeting with his agency. Nino’s been left alone in the apartment for an hour waiting for Jun and it feels like a mistake.  
  
When Jun finally walks through the front door, his bad mood radiates off him in waves. Nino doesn’t bother to comment on how late he is; instead, they simply fall into an old routine—Jun complaining about his agency while he moves into the kitchen to open a bottle of wine and Nino responding with glib comments from the couch. As if nothing has changed.  
  
There’s something in Jun’s rant about his agency wanting to set him up with an actress, worries about his image now he’s getting more popular, and that’s new. Nino can’t ignore the way his chest clenches tightly at that, but he tries.  
  
“Who’s the lucky girl?” he asks, keeping his expression blank and his face turned away from Jun.  
  
“What?”  
  
“I mean, who does your agency want you to date? Someone from your last drama? That would probably make the most sense.”  
  
“I… what? Are you seriously encouraging this? Don’t you care?”  
  
Nino shrugs. The movement feels too obviously affected. “It’s your life.” He’s still not looking at Jun, so he misses seeing the way his face darkens as the conversation spirals out of control, but he can feel the heat of his glare.  
  
Even so, he can't seem to stop himself from talking.  
  
“You should probably tell me if you’re going to do it, though. I don’t think I should be here if you’re dating someone else.”  
  
Silence falls between them, thick and heavy. Nino thinks that if Jun was standing in front of him, a hand would be gripping his chin now, tilting his head so he has to meet Jun's eyes. As it is, they remain on opposite sides of the apartment, with too much space between them.  
  
“I don’t understand.” Jun’s voice is quiet, and Nino looks at him now. He’s still standing in the kitchen with his palms flat against the countertop, all of his emotions laid bare across his face. Anger and frustration and confusion, all mixed together.  
  
There’s hurt there, too, and maybe just a hint of fear. Nino looks away.  
  
“I think I should go.” He pushes off the couch, still evading Jun’s gaze, and walks towards the door.  
  
“Nino—”  
  
“You should listen to your agency, Jun,” he says, and leaves before Jun can stop him.  
  
  
\--  
  
  
The bottle of whiskey he buys on his way home is a mistake. Nino’s never been good at holding his liquor.  
  
There’s something horribly depressing about the feeling of cold bathroom floor tiles touching bare skin. Nino’s hands grasp the porcelain rim of his toilet seat and he wills his body to catch up to his brain, needing to force out the heavy sickness coating his throat, making him dizzy. It does no good. He seems stuck in that nauseating state in-between, and he thinks it must be his punishment.  
  
His head is too fuzzy to notice someone enter the bathroom until steady hands grip his shoulders from behind.  
  
Words are exchanged—he can vaguely feel his mouth moving—but the sounds are too far away for Nino to make sense of them. All he can think is that it’s Jun there behind him, pushing his hair out of his face.  
  
He knows it can’t be Jun. Even more so when a finger pushes into his mouth, pressing down on his tongue so he gags. No way would Jun be there right now, helping him like this, after what just happened.  
  
Nino stops thinking then. The finger does its job and his throat burns, chest heaving, until he’s gasping for relief. He keeps his eyes screwed shut and slumps against the nearest surface, hearing the sound of the toilet flushing and a tap running.  
  
A warm, wet cloth dabs gently at his face. Slowly, he opens his eyes, and immediately wants to close them again.  
  
It’s Jun’s face in front of him, soft with concern.  
  
“Silly,” he says with a sigh. “Do you feel better now?”  
  
Nino nods. He shivers, lips trembling.  
  
“Up you get then.”  
  
His body feels weak when Jun helps him up, and he lets himself be led by Jun’s steady hands, undressing him quickly before manoeuvring him into the shower. The spray is warm when it hits his back. He thinks he could fall asleep there, blanketed by the water running down his skin, but Jun doesn’t allow him to linger. Mouthwash follows, and a brisk pat dry with a towel that Nino leaves draped around his shoulders.  
  
He clings to it with unsteady fingers as he turns to face Jun.  
  
“I—”  
  
“You should sleep,” Jun says, already pushing at Nino’s shoulders to guide him into the bedroom. “Your head will feel a lot clearer in the morning.”  
  
His bed looks warm and Nino clambers into it gratefully, already seeking sleep without care that he’s still naked and half-damp. A gentle tug pulls his towel away, and he buries his head into his pillows as sheets are drawn over his body in a comforting embrace.  
  
He thinks he senses Jun settle into the bed beside him before he loses consciousness completely, but he can’t be sure.  
  
  
\--  
  
  
When he first awakes, it’s still dark, and Jun is lying in front of him, face still. Nino blinks slowly and shifts a fraction closer before his eyes fall shut once more.  
  
  
\--  
  
  
When he next awakes, he’s surrounded by sunlight, and Jun is gone.  
  
That is, if he was ever actually there in the first place, and not just some drunken hallucination Nino conjured.  
  
He rolls onto his back and pushes himself up to sit against his pillows. The movement causes a wave of dizziness to pass through him, head pounding and stomach lurching, and Nino hisses through his teeth. He screws his eyes shut and groans loudly.  
  
“I left you painkillers on the bedside table.”  
  
Nino opens his eyes and sees Jun, standing in the doorway. He doesn’t know what to say, so he just stares at Jun.  
  
Jun raises his eyebrows, and when Nino doesn’t move, he walks over to the bedside table and picks up the packet of painkillers himself, handing them over to Nino before sitting on the edge of the bed.  
  
“Why are you here?” Nino asks. He doesn’t open the packet.  
  
“Sho called me after you apparently called him. He was worried about you, so I came.” Jun gives him a discerning look. “You know, you didn’t have to act like that last night if you were going to get so upset.”  
  
Nino can’t think of a way to respond to that, so he says nothing. Jun stares at him a while and then he sighs, shifting in his seat so he can look at Nino more directly.  
  
“Did you know it’s been over two years since we first met?”  
  
He did know that, even if some days he can’t quite believe it to be true. He’s turning twenty-two in a month, and Jun’s birthday won’t be too long after.  
  
Time passes too quickly.  
  
“That means it’s been over two years that I’ve been chasing you around. And it’s not like there hasn’t been anyone else I could have been with during that whole time.”  
  
“Thanks for the reminder.”  
  
“That’s not what I—” Jun stops himself, frustration flashing across his features, and he closes his eyes for a moment. “I could have been with someone else but I haven’t, because they’re not you. Ever since that first shoot where I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing and you looked at me like you could pull apart all of my secrets, there’s only really been you.”  
  
It’s a confession too heavy for Nino to handle, especially when Jun is looking at him again with eyes too serious, full of expectations.  
  
“I know you think whatever we are is temporary. I’ve talked to Sho.”  
  
“Sho is supposed to be _my_ friend,” Nino gripes, voice small. He knows he’s just grasping for diversions at this point; he can feel himself being cornered, and the most terrifying part is the way it’s making him unable to avoid confronting the truth he keeps buried.  
  
“Sho is my friend too. That’s what happens when you spend a lot of time with someone: their friends become your friends.” Jun tugs at his bottom lip with his teeth, thinking. It makes the mole just below it more prominent, and Nino remembers how he wiped away the concealer covering it the first time they met.  
  
“I know I can be kind of single-minded,” Jun continues. “And I know what I want. I thought I knew what you wanted too, but now I’m not so sure. Just… tell me. Tell me what you actually want.”  
  
Nino is still for a moment as Jun’s request settles over them, and he looks at Jun. There’s a hesitancy in his voice even as he tries to keep himself steady; a glint of frightened uncertainty clouding his eyes.  
  
Nino can see him now: the same Jun who walked into the studio years ago, with the intriguing face wrapped up in a ball of nervous energy and insecurity, so full of potential. The Jun who frowned too much, and still frowns too much, but also smiles at Nino with unreserved pleasure and laughs far more easily than his serious image suggests.  
  
The Jun he kissed for the first time, but certainly not the last, and Nino thinks he probably knew even then.  
  
“I don’t want you to listen to your agency.”  
  
A crease appears between Jun’s eyebrows and he tilts his head. “I was never going to.”  
  
Nino nods slowly. “Good.”  
  
There’s a pause. “Is that it?”  
  
“Do I have to say it?”  
  
Jun looks at him, as if considering for a moment, and then he nods. “Yes.”  
  
“Fine.” Nino draws a deep breath, looking down for a moment before he gives Jun his most resolute stare.“I want you. You’re weird, and difficult, and you use too many hair products, but I want you. No one else, just you.”  
  
“I can’t believe you just called me difficult,” Jun says, but his voice is lighter and a smile is starting to curl onto his lips.  
  
Nino shrugs and looks away. “I don’t want you to leave me behind.”  
  
The mattress under him moves as Jun shifts closer. Long fingers slide against his face to cup his chin and Jun tilts Nino’s head so they’re facing once more.  
  
“Hey.” Jun’s voice is gentle. “I told you before, I’ve been chasing you all this time. I still am, you know; I’m not going to leave you behind.”  
  
Nino’s always been the cynical type, but looking at Jun now makes him want to believe.  
  
“Okay?” Jun says, softly insistent.  
  
Nino swallows and lets his doubts be pushed aside. “Okay.”  
  
  
\--  
  
  
“The model for the shoot is here.”  
  
Nino glances up from his desk at Ohno, standing in the doorway of his tiny office. He looks half-asleep, eyelids drooping and shoulders slumped, but Nino knows he’ll brighten with a careful focus as soon as he steps on set. He sees it happen almost every day.  
  
“You can call him by name,” Nino says, rising from his chair. “Unless you’ve already forgotten it?”  
  
Ohno shrugs. “You talk about him too much for me to forget.”  
  
Nino chooses not to respond, but he elbows Ohno slightly as he walks past.  
  
As soon as he walks into the main room of the studio, he can see it’s not just the model who has arrived. All of the staff from the magazine that they’ve been contracted to photograph an editorial for are standing in the studio waiting for him. He has to take the time to greet them and direct the stylists to where they can set up before he can make his way to the model, who has annoyingly wandered over to the other side of the room.  
  
When he finally does, he smiles at the sight of a very familiar pair of broad shoulders attached to a very familiar back, bent over the table where he keeps some of his camera equipment. Nino moves to stand directly behind him, taking a moment to appreciate the choice of tight jeans and a thin, white t-shirt.  
  
“I hope you realise that you have to pay for anything you damage.”  
  
Jun turns around to face him then, with a mischievous grin on his face. “No discounts for family or friends?”  
  
“Nope.”  
  
“Stingy.”  
  
“Hey, not stingy; sensible.” Nino crosses his arms over his chest and tries to keep from smiling so that he can maintain the look of mock affront on his face. It’s difficult when the sparkle in Jun’s eyes is so infectious. “How else do you expect me to be able to buy you those ridiculous accessories you like so much?”  
  
He looks down pointedly at the silver bracelet glinting against the pale skin of Jun’s wrist, pleased that he’s still wearing it just as he has every day since Nino gifted it to him for his birthday. It was ludicrously expensive, and not something Nino would ever choose for himself (he laughed in Jun’s face when he suggested buying Nino one to match), but Jun’s particular way of showing his gratitude made the cost more than worth it.  
  
“I suppose I should be grateful that at least one of us has the presence of mind to keep us from becoming destitute.”  
  
It’s not a serious comment; a string of high-profile drama roles and endorsements have put Jun in a position where he can afford to fritter away some of his income on various luxuries. Nino likes to joke about becoming Jun’s kept man so he can stay at home all day and not work, but they both know he’s not serious. He likes his job. He likes Ohno, strange as he is sometimes, and he likes the work, even on those days where everything seems to fall to pieces.  
  
He still hasn’t quite lost his fascination for trying to capture his subjects in a perfect image.  
  
Jun sidles up closer to Nino, hands settling into a familiar position on his hips. “It’s nice to finally be here,” he says, smile growing warm. It’s the kind of smile Nino really likes to kiss.  
  
He can’t, though, instead drawing back to shoot Jun a wry look. “You’ve been here before.”  
  
“Not the same.” He catches Nino glancing surreptitiously around the room and leans closer, voice dropping low. “Don’t worry. The staff here all know about you already.”  
  
“Oh? And what exactly have you been telling them about me?”  
  
“That you’re very demanding.” One of Jun’s hands slides just under the thin fabric of Nino’s shirt, fingers grazing bare skin. “I told them you might need to keep me back for extra reshoots if you’re not satisfied.”  
  
“That sounds frustrating for you.”  
  
Jun ignores him, eyes drifting over to the other side of the room before regaining their focus on Nino. “I took a bit of a look around earlier. Seems like you have a very nice storage room here.”  
  
“And why would I be interested in a cramped storage room when we have a perfectly good, comfortable bed at home?”  
  
“Don’t you have any sense of nostalgia?”  
  
“What can I say? I like to enjoy the present.” Nino reaches out to touch Jun then, pressing a hand against the flat planes of his stomach. “But if you’re very good, maybe I’ll give you some kind of reward.”  
  
Jun’s smile widens, dark eyes glittering with amusement, and he leans forward. Nino holds him back. “Reward comes after. Now go get ready before someone starts complaining about unprofessional behaviour.”  
  
When Nino turns away, Jun is laughing at him, and he’s fairly certain everyone in the studio is watching them with poorly concealed curiosity. He doesn’t care. He has a job to do, and it’s something he feels like he’s been working towards for far too long.  
  
The first time Nino photographs Jun, they’re both twenty-four and they’re definitely not nobodies anymore.  
  
He thinks they’re going to be fine.  
  



End file.
